


Finger Lickin' Good

by APerfectGrace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Impala, Multi, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:45:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2350535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APerfectGrace/pseuds/APerfectGrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Night has fallen, and it's dark in the backseat of the Impala. But that's where the best kind of fun happens...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finger Lickin' Good

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the imagine: 'Imagine Cas and Dean both fingering you in the backseat of the Impala, under a sheet, while Sam drives.'
> 
> Smut, smut, smut. I did warn you.

You can't help but smile as your ass hits the plush backseat of the Impala, your aching muscles sighing happily now that the weight is taken off of your feet. You're tired, sore, and every part of your body feels like it's been through an industrial roller.  
  
You wish you could just stretch out and lie down against the soft leather, _really_ stretch your bones out, you know?  
  
Of course, that would be too easy.  
  
As luck would have it, you, Bobby and Team Freewill had just finished decimating a wendigo somewhere in the middle of nowhere, and were now heading back home, which meant that the Impala had a full house. Every single seat was taken. No space whatsoever. No stretching for you.  
  
And as if _that_ wasn't cramped enough, Dean had a sprained ankle so couldn't drive (which meant that Sam had to take over for him), Castiel had overexerted himself and was currently graceless (so couldn’t teleport as he was temporarily human) and Bobby couldn't sit in the back because he needed to navigate Sam out of wherever the hell you all were and back home, since only he knew how to get out of there.  
  
Cue your being settled in the middle of the backseat, with Dean on your right, and Castiel on your left.  
  
Not that you minded, not one bit.  
  
Why would you? You were in between your two boyfriends.  
  
You, Dean and Castiel had been in an equal triad for nearly four years now.

You had started hunting with the Winchesters a year after the death of their father, and you had fallen for Dean straight away. You had never made the move though, fearing that your dangerous lifestyles meant that you could be ripped away from each other at a moment's notice. You were just unable to deal with that kind of pain; it was better to love from afar than risk having it taken away from you. Unbeknownst to you, Dean felt exactly the same way.  
  
However, you came really close to losing him once, and in your desperation and near-grief you had ended up blurting everything out to him, only to have him recover miraculously and find out that he more than reciprocated your feelings. To say you were stunned was an understatement.

Well, after that… that was that.  
  
That is, until Castiel came along. When he had appeared and pulled Dean out of Hell (a dark time in your life that you preferred to forget), you didn't think that you could feel for anyone else a semblance of what you felt for Dean.  
  
Turns out, you were wrong about that too. The short of it was that both you _and_ Dean fell in love with the stoic, brightly-eyed angel, the same angel who inadvertently found himself loving the two of you right back.

Funny, strange world.  
  
So, here you were, in the middle of the two loves of your life; one of whom was bitterly complaining about the state of his leg while the other settled in quietly next to you and shut the last open door of the Impala.  
  
Sam gunned the engine.  
  
“I told you, Dean,” Castiel explained patiently, “I will be able to fully heal your ankle once my grace has regenerated.”  
  
“Which will be _when?_ ” Dean moaned, keeping his leg as straight as possible and grimacing when Sam put Baby in reverse.  
  
“I don't know.” His voice softened slightly; it always worried him when he lost his celestial abilities, and that wasn't lost on either you or Dean, who immediately felt like smacking himself.  
  
You reached over and squeezed the angel’s hand gently while Dean looked at him sympathetically, the pallor of his face a shade whiter than it should be.  
  
“Aw shit, Cas, I'm sorry. I should be more understanding.”  
  
“It's perfectly alright, Dean.”  
  
“The hell it is,” he said dryly. “I'm just in pain, that's why. I didn't think.”  
  
“Do you ever?” Sam broke in. Dean punched the back of his chair in response, earning a disapproving noise from Bobby.  
  
“You wanna kill yourself by distracting your brother that's fine and dandy, boy, but don't take me with you, understand?” he warned gruffly.  
  
Dean grumbled and stared out the window.  
  
“I'm starving,” you groaned, inspecting a cut just above your left elbow.  
  
“I'm sure there's a service station somewhere,” Sam replied. “We can stop on the way.”  
  
“Actually, the roads we're takin' are long, straight dirt roads. You guys want food I'm gonna need to find a new route.” Bobby tapped the map to emphasise his point.  
  
“Nourishment may be a wise choice,” Castiel said thoughtfully, casting an endearing eye over you and Dean, who was looking down at his stomach. It had been a long time since any of you had eaten anything decent.  
  
“Dean's gonna need pie,” you added, an enthusiastic hum coming from your right.  
  
“Bobby, can you re-route us?”  
  
“Sure thing, Sam. You lot pipe down for a bit, I need to think.”  
  
“No problem.” You reached behind you to find one of the sheets that was kept in the Impala and swiftly covered yourself with it. “I'm tired and I need some z's. I was awake all night thanks to _some_ _people_.”  
  
“That wasn't me, that was Cas!”  
  
The angel raised an eyebrow at Dean pointedly. “How was that me?”  
  
“ _You_ started it!”  
  
“No, _you_ did.”  
  
“How?”  
  
“You reached over and grabbed my-“  
  
Bobby and Sam instantly interrupted with loud, disgusted noises, and as a heated discussion began to break out, you smirked and snuggled into the sheet, your eyes drifting shut with exhaustion within minutes.  
  
You could fall asleep through anything.  
  
\------  
  
Some time later, you slowly wake up to a night sky, the thrum of the Impala's engine, and a warm hand lightly tracing the inside of your thigh.  
  
Groggy and disorientated, you take a few moments to adjust, consciousness creeping into your foggy brain.

The Impala is cruising down a long, deserted road, and a comfortable silence sits in the air.

Sam and Bobby are concentrating on driving, exchanging low words every once in a while. Dean is asleep against the window, his jaw propped up in his hand. His mouth is slightly open and you can hear soft breathing sounds, making your heart twang at how vulnerable and adorable he looks like that. You turn to look at Castiel, who, you notice with a start, is staring _right at you_ , his bright-coloured eyes boring into your sleep-glazed own.

All of a sudden, your mind is swiftly directed to the soft fingertips playing with your leg, heated from sleep and tingling from the soft caresses that he is exacting upon you.

Your hand unconsciously twists in the fabric of the sheet still over you, the material acting as your anchor as you feel Castiel’s fingers walk higher up your leg. You can feel yourself erupt in gooseflesh at the feather-light touch, both teasing and endearing at the same time.

Suddenly, Castiel’s fingers glide confidently up your thigh, firmly cupping your sex through the join of your jeans, and your mouth drops open as heat pools into your crotch from the added warmth of his hand.

Your body is waking up, reacting slowly to his gentle ministrations. His hand doesn’t move, merely covers your groin, hidden underneath the sheet that you had fanned around yourself earlier. Gently, he applies pressure against your sex, watching with fascination as your pupils dilate and your lip juts out ever so slightly at the change.

Your eyes dart towards the front seats where Bobby and Sam are caught in a low discussion about an upcoming highway, completely oblivious to you and Castiel. Dean is still out cold.

Castiel sees your eyes change direction and smirks, the corner of his mouth raising as he shifts closer to you.

What is he _doing?_

You know exactly what he’s doing. You’ve been in this position a thousand times before, but never before has Castiel ever attempted such a feat with other people mere feet away. In all honesty, you never even contemplated the idea that Castiel may be into anything _remotely_ voyeuristic, but you find yourself fantastically turned on at the thought.

Your body merely confirms your arousal as you watch, with acute interest, as Castiel raises his other hand and presses his finger to his lips, looking at you intently.

Quiet. You need to be _quiet_.

Your stomach clenches at the idea that this is actually happening, that he is going through with this with Sam and Bobby inches away.

He takes his finger away from his mouth and re-focuses his attention, casting a quick glance at the sleeping Dean and dragging his teeth against his lip. You find your legs unintentionally spreading slightly to grant him easier access, and the action is not lost on Castiel. His eyes seem to shine wickedly and his tongue runs over the curve of his bottom lip. You feel yourself slicken at the sight.

His hand begins to move against you, gradually dragging up towards the waistband of your jeans and deftly popping open the button without any sound or any difficulty. You press your lips together, _hard_ , as he teasingly drags your zipper down and dips his fingers into the lining of your underwear, each moment accentuated exponentially by the fact that you can’t see him do a damn thing to you, since you’re both still covered by that godforsaken sheet.

He purses his lips together in a _shhhh_ motion as he slides into your wet folds, his grin growing as your mouth falls wider open and you fist the sheet in a death grip, holding back the desperate moan trying to fight its way out.

Every nerve in your body seems to be firing rapidly as Castiel begins to work you: spreading your lips, wetting his fingers with your arousal, thumbing the ball of your clit, sliding his fingers right where you need them most.

It takes every ounce of self-control you possess to keep as calm and collected as one possibly can when receiving a hand job from an angel with ridiculously dexterous fingers. You plant your feet firmly against the floor of the Impala, your already overworked leg muscles straining hard at the coils of pleasure spiralling in your centre right now. You want nothing more than to verbally express just how much pleasure Castiel is giving you right now; your underwear is drenched, your nipples are hard enough to cut glass and you can’t help the small jerking movements from your hips as Castiel pushes further into you. You want nothing more than to grab his collar and pull him flush against you, to pant and moan against his soft mouth, to hook a leg over his lap and fuck yourself onto his very adept, long-jointed fingers.

Castiel unexpectedly removes his hand completely from your underwear and the sheet, making you nearly whine in frustration before you see him slowly raise his fingers to his mouth and close his lips around the digits, working them all the way down to his knuckles before sucking upwards, his eyes fluttering shut as he tastes you on each finger. He makes an unbelievable show of it, swirling his tongue around each fingertip, softly sucking on each end, licking in between each digit, tilting his head back so you can watch his throat bob with each deep, deliberate swallow that he takes. All the while he never takes his eyes off of you, keeping heated eye contact with you throughout the entire thing.

It’s such a hot sight that you almost come there and then, were it not for you clamping your legs shut as you push your hands down, squeezing hard enough to crack the leather of the seats.

This abrupt movement jostles Dean ever so slightly, enough to cause a small burst of pain from his ankle to momentarily awake him, and he groans and shifts away from the window to face you, eyes blinking slowly and glazed over with sleep.

You don’t notice, too preoccupied with trying not to draw blood with your teeth as Castiel’s hand disappears under the sheet once more. Your tongue laps at your top lip, breathlessly anticipating the moment when he places his touch on you once more.

Instead, you feel a shaft of cold air hit your right side, enough to distract you. You turn your head to find Dean raising the sheet a fraction, eyes widening at the side of your undone jeans, the obvious tent in Castiel’s crotch and his wet fingers disappearing into your underwear.

“D–”

You don’t get that far.

Several things happen in the space of a millisecond.

Castiel’s other hand deftly clamps around your mouth, cutting off whatever you were about to say.

The sleep disappears from Dean’s eyes, eradicated by surprise that quickly transforms into arousal that darkens the look he’s now sending you.

He and Castiel exchange a glance, and they both smirk at each other at the same time.

Castiel removes his hand from your mouth and leans in steadily until his mouth is against the shell of your ear.

“ _Quietly_.”

He gently pries your legs apart from when you closed them shut before, further apart than earlier, because now Dean’s hand is snaking under the sheet too, running the length of your quivering thigh.

You dazedly wonder how in the blue hell Sam and Bobby haven’t noticed anything, and then decide that you couldn’t give a flying fuck because Dean is reaching the top of your jeans at the same time as Castiel is.

For a brief moment, their hands meet, and fingers interlock with one another for a moment, sparing each other loving smiles before pulling apart, fisting the edge of your jeans and pulling the material down bit by bit, slowly, so as not arouse any suspicion from the two men in front.

Before you can process it, your jeans are bunched around your knees, Castiel and Dean are shifting to rest their heads on your shoulders (all the while making it look like they are moving in sleep so that Sam and Bobby are none the wiser) and Castiel is grazing the underside of your left thigh while Dean is palming the top of your right.

Good sweet Lord, this is how you were going to die.

You were gonna bite through your lip at the rate you were worrying it between your lips, your nails digging hard into your palms.

Dean’s fingers are tracing patterns in the junction between your sex and your thigh, while Castiel is reaching under your thigh to work his fingers back into your folds, making you clench around him. The feeling is intensified as Dean’s hand moves over to softly circle your clit.

Wendigoes were easy. Vampires were a piece of cake. Hell, give you the entirety of Crowley’s army and that would seem like simple addition compared to the complexity of keeping quiet while your two boyfriends fingered you in the backseat of the Impala.

“Gotta keep quiet, baby,” Dean whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck and drawing the skin into his mouth, suckling noiselessly.

At the same time Castiel pulls your earlobe into his mouth with his teeth, nibbling softly.

You can do nothing but hold on for the ride, attempting to breathe normally whilst both men work you closer and closer, the voyeuristic part of the situation rapidly increasing your path to orgasm.

Dean is moving down to push his fingers in with Castiel’s, your aching folds stretching to make room for his strong fingers. For a while, they both work you together, pumping together, running fingertips on the outside of your lips, crooking their fingers inside you, pulling you closer and closer to the brink.

You use every hunter reflex and training you can to keep as stoic as possible, keeping movements to the barest minimum as you gently rock your hips against them under the sheet.

A hand closes around your wrist and your hand is pulled into Dean’s groin. You face him as you feel the hardness in his crotch, wanting nothing more than to pull him out and jerk him off, but the ministrations that they are inflicting upon you are making you uncoordinated and unable to think clearly.

All of a sudden, they remove themselves from your folds, just before the point of no return, and you could just _scream_ at them as they lazily trace circles up and down the inside of your thighs, leaving traces of yourself all along your skin.

“Dicks,” you barely mutter under your breath.

Castiel noses the side of your face, sneakily reach under your shirt to tweak a hardened nipple. You jerk involuntarily, and you feel his lips move into a smile. He has you right where he wants you. “If you’re a good girl, maybe we’ll let you have ours.” Your sex clenches at the thought.

“But if you’re bad…” Dean was licking the lobe of your ear, making it extremely difficult to concentrate. “Well…”

“I’ll behave. Promise.” You bite each syllable out with a great effort, desperately needing their skilled hands back between the junction of your thighs.

“Good girl,” Dean breathes softly, delving back into your soaked sex, studying your response as he does so.

Your eyes squeeze shut and you huff a barely-there gasp, already riding so close to the edge as Castiel’s fingertips gently brush your clit alongside Dean’s.

You can feel yourself creep closer and closer, and this time there’s no teasing, this time they don’t stop, they merely alternate. Dean’s fingers in your slick walls change to gently flick your clit while Castiel’s fingertips move down to rub your outer lips, shallowly dipping into your entrance. Slow, deliberate, a steady rhythm that pushes you further and further to breaking point.

Your hands are clamped tight on both their thighs, and you lean your head against Castiel’s shoulder, your teeth clenching the collar of his trench coat _hard_. Each movement seems to be magnified, all due to the fact that you can’t see, only feel what they’re doing to you.

Your body begins to tense up; the end is seconds away and you know it. There is no way in hell that you can hold this back, and they know it.

As if they can sense this, they both slide two fingers into your entrance, simultaneously rubbing your clit between their thumbs and assaulting every possible nerve with their movements.

Then, at the same time, Castiel turns his head and whispers savagely “Do it,” at the exact moment that Dean leans in and lets out a long, soft groan in your ear.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, exploding behind your closed eyes as your walls clamp down around Dean and Castiel’s moving fingers, pulses of pleasure rippling through your body so hard you nearly draw blood as you clamp down on your lip. You manage, by the skin of your teeth, to keep silent the entire way through, but tremors are making your body jerk violently, your hips snapping upwards with each wave of your orgasm.

You dimly feel hands grip your hips and hold you down, accentuating the last few ripples of your climax once you start to come down from your explosive high.

Smiling at each other, the boys gently remove their hands from in between your trembling legs, enticing you a little longer while they gently lick their fingers clean, making your sex throb in response.

Somehow, you manage to pull your jeans back up your thighs and redo them, as Dean makes a show of pretending to wake up and Castiel goes back to staring out the window.

As Dean engages in conversation with Bobby and Castiel asks Sam something about the current mileage, the sheet remains firmly across your lap, where underneath, two hands sit on your knees.


End file.
